A year ago today I wrote the following short story about Neville.
My talented friend from college read it aloud (you can watch it here the story starts around 32 minutes!
I also wrote one about Luna which you can read on my blog too.
It wasn’t that he wanted to be a hero, he just wanted to be
known for more than forgetting. Neville shifted to his side and sighed deeply.
The rest of Gryffindor tower was silent, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that
kept him up at night.
Neville closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the
images of his parents.
“At least mum took my candy last time, and I didn’t forget
to bring it”.
He never knew what a visit to St. Mungos would look like,
some days he was ashamed to admit he didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to see his
parent’s vacant stares, their passive attempts at patting his arm or ruffling
his hair. He just wanted to be remembered. As light began to brighten the room,
at last his breathing slowed and eyelids drooped.
The next day was a blur of OWLS. Neville was sure he did
well in herbology. Plants were predictable, they never rushed or confused him.
Neville even had empathy for the mandrakes, whose shrieks of disapproval
reverberated long after they were re-potted. No one likes change, especially
when you don’t choose it.
“Oh hello, Neville”, Luna said breezily as she matched his
pace. “I can’t seem to find my cottongarbol nymphs, but I’m sure they’ll turn
up when I stop looking. Father always says that the best things come when we
least expect, but I think expecting the good is half the fun”.
“Right” muttered Neville, distracted by recipes and rules of
potions, hoping that Snape’s glares wouldn’t get to him, this time.
“Oh anyway, Neville, I found this”- she handed him a clouded
remembral, that turned bright red as she delicately placed it in his hand. He
blushed furiously, losing his remembral, how fitting.
“thanks, Luna. Hope this doesn’t meant I’ve forgotten what
we’ll need for potions” he gulped in anticipation.
“Oh, well, maybe finding it will help you remember, Neville--Oh
there they are! She pointed to a dusty painting right outside of Snape’s class
as she scooped air and placed it in her bag.
“Thanks, Luna” he said calmly, as they took their seats.
The hour passed quickly as Neville feverishly worked to make
his cauldron the glittering blue the potion called for, but as the last second
passed, it was still decidedly a murky grey. Much to be expected.
Snape sneered at him and said icily, “forgetting something,
as usual, Longbottom”.
Once out in the open air, Neville breathed deeply. At least
the OWLS were over.
“Cheer up, mate” encouraged Ron. “Snape’s a jerk. We all
know you got top marks in herbology. Probably beat Hermoine” he grinned and
punched his arm.
“Oy! Hermoine! I said PROBABLY” Ron cried as he rubbed his
own shoulder.
Hermoine rolled her eyes and said matter-of-factly, “Ron’s
right, Neville. Snape doesn’t have a compassionate bone in his body. I’m sure
you did your best. Anyway, what WAS the antidote for stinging hornswoggles”
Neville smiled, answering Hermoine confidently, as they made
their way to the Gryffindor table for dinner.
He rarely talked about his vivid dreams. Ones where he was
back in the cottage, playing in the garden as his parents looked on lovingly.
How his dad would grip his shoulder with pride, and his mom would smile at him,
eyes aglow with knowing and tenderness. The way his dad would point out the
various plants and quiz him on their meanings and uses. His mother’s compassionate
gaze, her confident voice, and the gentle way she moved his hair out of his
eyes. Neville often woke reluctantly, and tried unsuccessfully to fall back
into the world where he was known, and not forgotten.
Later that night, exhausted from the exams, Neville
uncharacteristically fell right asleep.
His eyelids flickered as rain pelted the dormitory windows, and
this night a different scene came to focus. He was talking with confidence and
a command that surprised him. He was in an unfamiliar room, organizing groups
of students, telling them which plants to grab, and how they could use them to
protect themselves and Hogwarts. As students nodded and dispersed, Neville felt
a gentle touch on his shoulder. As he turned, pale blonde hair brushed his
cheek and Luna’s lips met his with a fierce tenderness. He kissed her back,
with a fervor that seized him. The cry of an uprooted mandrake shocked them
apart.
Neville blushed as Luna smiled, “I’ve been wanting to do
that for quite some time” she breathed confidently. “no point in waiting when
the world is ending” pausing slightly to straighten her robes, Luna looked at
him passionately, then continued calmly, “I’ve got to collect my narfugal water
sprouts, they’re known for their venomous spit, I’m sure they’ll be helpful.
bye Neville” she squeezed his hand and looked back once as she left the room.
Neville’s heart was hammering and his palms were sweaty, but
that had nothing to do with nerves. Inexplicably, the scene shifted and he was
standing with a sword, aiming for a large dark and twisting serpent, his grip
tightened as he raised the hilt—a crack of lightning jolted Neville awake. His
four-poster shook with thunder as his heart still beat wildly.
“it was only a dream” he sighed as he punched his pillow and
pulled up his covers.
Maybe one day I’ll be known for more than being forgetful.
Maybe, I’ll be brave and loved in real life, not only in my dreams.
